


fundamentals of trust

by Jmeelee



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 14:43:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14191254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jmeelee/pseuds/Jmeelee
Summary: For the anon's on tumblr, who inspired me to write SilverFlint again <3  The beginning scene is a knock off from the TV show, FRIENDS, as the prompt suggested :-)





	fundamentals of trust

**Author's Note:**

> For the anon's on tumblr, who inspired me to write SilverFlint again <3 The beginning scene is a knock off from the TV show, FRIENDS, as the prompt suggested :-)

“I quit!” James declares loudly, waving a manilla interoffice envelope manically above his head as he barges into his bosses office. The door slams shut behind him with a reverberating bang, but Eleanor Guthrie doesn’t bother glancing in his direction.

“I refuse to accept your resignation, Mr. Flint,” she answers, monotone. “Room assignments are permanent and nonnegotiable, and also not grounds for your departure.” Eleanor’s assistant, Max, is diligently typing at the laptop on the mahogany desk as Eleanor leans over her shoulder, proofreading whatever document they are drafting together. She points to something on the screen, and Max smiles, nodding her head and tapping her manicured nails on the backspace key. 

James pulls a letter out of the envelope he is clutching in his fingers, its corners already worn from frantic refolding, and slaps it on the desk. “You don’t understand. I _can’t_ share a room with John Silver again.”

At the slight quiver he can’t seem to hide from his voice, Eleanor’s ice blue eyes steal toward the closed office door, then lock on James’ pained face. “The purpose of this retreat is trust and team building, James, and no two employees need to break the ice more than you and Mr. Silver.”

“No,” Flint shakes his head. “No, no, no. No one else was assigned the same roommate they had at the last retreat. This isn’t _fair_. And we don’t need to break anything. We are perfectly fine vehemently denying the other’s existence. It’s all very cordial.” 

“James, he threw a shoe at you after the last trip. You deflected it with your office door. Cordial is not the right word.”

Flint throws his hands in the air. “Fine, we hate each other. It’s an uneasy truce, but a truce nonetheless. Why would you want to ruin that?”

“Because someone needs to win the office betting pool on when the two of you will fuck, and I put a hundred dollars down on this weekend,” Max snickers. 

Flint’s mouth falls open. “ _What?!_ Who else is placing bets on us?” 

“Everyone,” Eleanor reveals, face carefully neutral. “Literally everyone but me. How have you missed this?”

Flint blinks rapidly in shock. “Oh...well… Thank you for not participating.”

“Oh, don’t thank me. The only reason I haven't bet is because I’m almost certain you fucked at the last company outing, and that’s where all this animosity is stemming from. You two were thick as thieves when he first started working here, and now there’s this ocean of space between you that neither can cross.”

“Damn everyone in this office to hell. You all suck.”

“Do we Flint? Do we _really?_ Or did John, and he wasn't very good at it?” Eleanor laughs at her own horrible joke.

“Silver never sucked my dick,” James scowls.

“Oh,” Max says, wincing in sympathy. “It was you who wasn’t any good?”

Flint sputters. “I’m perfectly good at suc-- what am I saying? You are all insane. John and I never hooked up.”

Eleanor let’s lose an exasperated sigh. “Fine. Then there isn't a problem with you both rooming together again. Now, get back to work.”

Panicked, James glances back and forth between the two women and their stoic faces. It’s no use; he knows he will have to come clean.

“All right, fine. If I tell you the truth, do you promise not to make us room together?”

Eleanor narrows her eyes. “Tell us the truth, and I’ll _consider_ reassigning you.” 

Flint takes a deep, steadying breath. “John was hired here a year and a half ago--” 

“Yes, we know his work history. Skip it and get to the good stuff!” Max yells. “What the hell happened when we were all staying at those cabins in the woods last year?”

“It happened on the last night of the weekend retreat, that night when we got hit with the freak spring snowstorm. The snow was so wet and heavy, it knocked out power to half the cabins, and I woke up freezing.”

“So you jumped in bed with John to share body heat?” Eleanor gives him a sly smile. “Very smooth.” 

“No, I wish.” Flint sighs. “We never hooked up. I won’t say the thought never crossed my mind, I mean… look at him!” Max and Eleanor nod in understanding. “I have no idea if he was interested, but neither one of us had ever made a move. So there we were, staying in the same tiny room together, and John tells me right before he takes his pants off before bed that he has an artificial leg he needs to remove at night when he sleeps.”

Max shoots to her feet and looms menacingly over the desk. “James Flint, so help me God, if you made fun of him for being disabled--”

“No, I wish!” Flint yells.

Max rears back in surprise, and Eleanor’s eyebrows meet in the middle of her forehead. “I’m scared to even imagine what could be worse. My God, it must be awful being you. What on earth happened, James?” 

“Like I said, that last night the snowstorm knocked out power to our cabin, and we had built a cozy fire before we went to sleep, but in the middle of the night it was almost burned out and I was cold. I stumbled out of bed, half asleep. So, I picked up a log and threw it on the flame before it died out. Or, at least what I thought it was a log…”

Max falls back into her chair with a noisy _oomph_ , and Eleanor rubs her temples.

“Jesus Christ, James. You couldn’t tell the difference between a leg and a log? John must have been so angry.”

James shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “I imagine he was.”

“What do you mean, you _imagine_?” Max squeaks, outraged

“Um, I ran. I ran through the snow, without my shoes, jumped in my car and drove home.” 

The glare both women level James with causes a cold sweat to break out all over his body. “Well, that explains where he got the shoe to throw at your face.” Max grimaces. 

Flint nods, sheepishly. “So, that’s the reason I can’t room with John Silver this year.”

“Oh, you’re rooming with him,” Eleanor declares with a menacing scowl. 

“What? No!” James’ voice is reaching octaves it hasn’t hit since puberty. “I just finished telling you I threw the man’s fake leg on a fire! If I step foot in that room he’ll probably stab me.”

“You’d deserve it,” Max says.

“Yes, I would, but I don’t want to die. Eleanor, be reasonable!”

“No, James,” she proclaims, hands stealing to her thin hips. James recognizes her formidable stance. There will be no changing her mind. “You owe John Silver an apology, at the least, which you better deliver sincerely the minute you enter the room. Think of this retreat as penance for your past sins against the man.”

“Penance is voluntary,” he sulks. “This is a death sentence. I’ll be dead by Sunday.”

Eleanor’s sour smile could curdle dairy. “Oh, I don’t know, James. Maybe you two will be friends by then.” 

________________________________________________________________________ 

To say the weekend starts off badly would be an understatement. 

Flint shows up fashionably late, hoping to avoid running into Silver. He’s entertaining fantasies of Silver barely being in their room, of Silver magically forgetting the leg burning incident ever happened. 

James slips the magnetic key card into the slot, pushes open the hotel door, and blinks, his overnight bag dropping to the axminster carpet with a muffled thud. John has left his work laptop open on the bed closest to the door, playing a ten hour high-definition crackling fireplace video on loop. There is a purple post-it note stuck to the top of the screen. He kicks his bag inside the room and shuts the door behind him, then wanders closer to make out John’s chicken scratch handwriting.

_Safe for artificial legs and guaranteed asshole proof_

James drops face first into his temporary bed, longing for home, where no one hates him.

 

____________________________________________

Eleanor sneaks up to him in the buffet line at dinner, startling him so badly he drops a coconut shrimp on the floor. 

“You’re still alive. The apology went well?”

Flint looks around for a napkin to pick up the fallen prawn, and when he doesn’t immediately see any, surreptitiously kicks it under the buffet table. “He wasn’t in the room.” James doesn’t mention that he’s come to dinner late to avoid having to run into Silver in the food line, and trying to ensure all the seats at the other man’s table will be filled by the time he shows up.

Eleanor aggressively scoops salad onto her dinner plate, then points the serving spoon in his face. “Don’t fuck this up, James.” She stamps off, presumably to find Max. 

James places his plate down on the table and heads toward the bar, opting for a liquid dinner instead.

_____________________

It’s after midnight when he gets back to their room, and John is in the bed closest to the window, turned away from the door and the light he has left on in the bathroom. Liquid courage brings James to the edge of John’s mattress, and his fingers are reaching out toward John’s shoulder when he notices how bad his own hand is shaking. 

He quickly steps away, the backs of his knees colliding with his mattress as he breathes a sigh of relief. Drunkenly waking Silver up from a dead sleep to apologize would have landed him in even more hot water than before. 

The idea dawns on him as only a drunken idea can. James reaches into his pocket and grabs his wallet, pulls out all the money he has brought with him for the trip. In the bleary light and his fuzzy vision, he thinks he counts about four hundred and thirty-seven dollars. He has no idea how much a prosthetic costs, but he can get more money out of the ATM tomorrow. 

He places the money on the mattress next to Silver, and starts to rummage around for a piece of paper and pen to leave John a note, in case he wakes up before James does in the morning. He finds what he needs on the nightstand, but only manages to write the words _How much_ before the booze, anxiety and exhaustion catches up to him, and he ends up flopping into bed still wearing all his clothes. He flings the partial note toward Silver as he shuffles under the covers, then blessedly passes out. 

In the morning, he rolls over and gets a mouthful of hundred dollar bills, and a message from Silver, written under James’ own tipsy unfinished missive. 

_Did you mistake me for a prostitute? I doubt you could afford me. Keep your fucking money._

Flint groans, burying his face back into his starchy pillowcase. This is why it’s better to avoid people like the plague. Running barefoot through the snow sounds like a more enjoyable option than finishing out the rest of this retreat. He pulls the blanket up over his head, blocking out the morning light sneaking through the crack in the curtains. He really should have quit on Thursday. 

_________________________________________________________

Saturday afternoon finds the entire company in the middle of the forest, participating in a dynamic high ropes course. Utility cables stretch between trees high above their heads, and the mandatory safety harness is chafing Flint’s upper thighs through his track pants. He feels ridiculous, and has an instinctual hatred for any forced team building activities, especially ones that put his junk on prominent display. Billy and Silver and some of the other guys from the office are strutting around taking pictures of themselves in all their embarrassing glory, but Flint is speeding through each activity at a rapid pace, wanting nothing more than to finish the course and the weekend in general.

A female facilitator is attaching lanyards and carabiners to his harness at the last station when she looks up at him and says, “You need a belay for this activity. Who is your partner?”

The other activities have been static, so Flint hasn’t bothered to pick a partner. He looks around for Eleanor, and feels rather than sees a person walk up behind him. 

“I’ll do it.”

He spins around, and there is John Silver, hand raised in the air like a dutiful school boy. Flint’s mouth falls open. “What the fuck are you doing, volunteering?” 

“Don’t you trust me, James?” John’s bright white shark smile is slightly terrifying. “That’s the whole point to this little endeavor, isn’t it? Team building? Personal development?” John menacingly steps closer, and the facilitator hooks a line to his harness, connecting John and James. 

Silver looks up into the trees, squinting in the sunlight. “You hate this shit just as much as I do; I’ve been watching you race through each activity all afternoon. This is the last one, and I think you’re going to need my help to get this one over and done with.” He turns to Flint. “Tell me I’m wrong. You have some other partner?”

“A belayer’s role is crucial to the climbers safety,” the facilitator imparts, words slicing through the tension between them.. Her face has been swiveling back and forth, monitoring their verbal volley. “Are you sure you’re both prepared?”

John tugs on the line between them, making James lean a little closer so he can whisper in his ear “You and I have suffered through some uncomfortable moments together. Why not one more?”

James nods, stepping back and turning to the tree base. “Fine, let’s do this. I’m ready.”

He climbs the tree, John on the ground below, paying out the rope as he ascends. At the top he slowly and carefully crosses a narrow cable, then returns to the middle, where he is supposed to be lowered to the ground by John. It’s quick and simple, and he’s almost back to center when he makes the mistake of looking down. 

The ground is hard-packed dirt fifty feet below, and the only thing stopping him from hitting it full stop is a man who hates him. An inarticulate sound of fear scrapes out of his throat. 

There is a tug and some tension on the line. “You’re almost there!” John calls from below. “We can do this.”

But James can’t do this. He’s frozen, eyes closing against the view on the ground. He knows that all he needs to do is slowly lean back out into the open air, and pray that John will lower him to safety. But it’s a momentous act of trust. 

“Flint!” John’s voice echos from below. After a few deep breaths, he finally opens his eyes. “James, trust me!” 

They’ve gathered a small crowd below, Flint can see. Eleanor and Max are looking up at him. They smile, knowingly. He hates them. 

“Jesus Christ, I must be out of my mind,” he mutters to the treetops. Then he leans back, and falls. 

 

_____________________________________________

He’s lowered safely to the ground, to the robust cheers of his co-workers, but by the time he’s gotten out of his harness John has disappeared. James skips dinner and searches the entire resort for him before giving up and going back to their room when he can’t find him. Silver didn’t let Flint plunge to his doom, so maybe there is still a chance of salvaging the situation. He needs to find John, now. 

He pushes open the door and is pelted in the forehead by a bedroom slipper. John Silver is sitting on the double bed by the window, victorious smile on his plush mouth. “Be thankful that wasn’t my dress shoe, asshole.” 

He walks over to Silver, stopping about a foot away from his knees. “I’m so sorry,” Flint blurts out, before his nerves fail him. 

“Sorry for what? For throwing my leg on the fire last year, then running out on me? For thinking I’d actually let you plument to your death on a shitty rope course? Or for making it rain Hamiltons over my sleeping body last night?”

“No, I’m…” James can feel his blood pressure raising. He takes a deep breath. “The money wasn’t… I wanted to pay for the damage I caused. That’s what the money was for. I was drunk and I knew that amount wouldn’t have even made a dent in the cost to replace the leg, but it would be the least I could do. It’s what I should have done, the minute I realized what I did last year.”

John leans over and pulls his pant leg up to his knee. The artificial limb is unmarred, except for a feint black smudge traveling up the outside. “It’s mostly made of titanium and aluminum, and the heat of the fire was too low to cause any real damage. You can keep your money.”

James shuffles awkwardly from foot to foot, and John signs in annoyance. “And paying for the leg? That isn’t what you should have done right away. You should have _stayed_.” 

James sits on his own bed, the space between them so small their knees knock together. The two men watch each other, wearily. “Well, this is some shit, isn’t it?” John asks with a deprecating laugh. 

“I am, though, sorry.” Flint doesn’t think he’s imagining how the hard lines around John’s eyes soften at his admission, and that gives him hope and a bit of much needed bravery. “I should have told you a thousand times before, and you are right, I never should have run out that night. You deserve so much better than how I acted toward you, how I’ve been acting.”

John’s eyes sweep over his face, shrewd and assessing. “Why did you run last year? What the hell did you think I was going to do?”

James grimaces, recalling his frigid barefoot trek to the parking lot. “I have no idea.” It’s a lie, and he thinks John might know it, but he doesn’t press. “It was truly a low point for me. I panicked. I’m not asking for your forgiveness, I don’t deserve it. I’m just giving you a long overdue and pathetically disappointing apology. I know it won’t stop you wanting to murder me in my sleep but please know it’s heartfelt and sincere.” 

“I’m accepting your apology, but that doesn’t mean I’m forgetting what you did. It’s not even about you trying to rotisserie my leg. Anyone can realize that was an honest mistake. It’s the fact that you ran out.” John rolls his eyes. “And, if it makes you feel any better, I haven’t considered killing you in months.”

James’ lips quirk up at the corner, a smile not daring to form in the presence of their fragile truce. He rubs the back of his neck. “A little.” 

“Good,” John says, then reaches out his hand. “Now help me up. I’m fucking starving and we’re late to dinner.”

Flint grasps Silver’s hand in his, and together they stand. 

_____________________________________________________________

When he wakes, the numbers on the digital clock are flashing 1:08, glowing like red eyes in the night. As his vision adjust to the dark he can make out the shape of Silver in the next bed, turned away from him, and James hears John’s foot restlessly rubbing against the over-starched sheet.

“You awake?” Flint whispers.

John hums. “Max texted me about an hour ago saying there was a power surge, and the electricity went out for about twenty minutes. She wanted to make sure you didn’t use it as an excuse to throw my leg out the window, or something. I haven’t been able to get back to sleep.” 

Flint whispers at the popcorn ceiling above his head. “Are you okay? Do you need something?”

John sighs. “Not something you can give me.”

James rears back, momentarily stunned by John’s bitter tone, when just hours ago they had come to a fragile truce. “Whatever you need, I’ll go get it. Despite my behavior this past year, I’m really not a heartless bastard. If you let me know what’s wrong, I can try to help.”

“I need the truth.” For a few long seconds, the sounds of their breathing and the forced air heat is all that can be heard. 

“The truth?” 

“Yes, the truth about why you left in the middle of the night. You say you panicked, and I believe you, but why did you panic, and then avoid me for an entire year? That’s a bit extreme, and it’s bothered me, no matter how much I try to ignore it and write you off. I guess I just thought…” he trails off. 

Flint sits straight up, bed sheet falling to his bare waist as his heart taps out a wild tempo against his rib cage. “What? _What_ did you think? Tell me, please.”

“Nothing,” Silver spits, still facing away from James. “It was obviously ridiculous and unfounded. Just forget it. Besides, you can’t even tell me why the fuck you ran.”

James pulls his legs out from under the sheets and places his feet in the floor. The carpet fibers scratch the soles as he makes his way over to the far side of Silver’s bed. The curtain flutters as he passes, and a sliver of moonlight slashes across Silver’s face. John looks up at him through inky black lashes. 

“You’re going to hate me if I tell you the truth.”

John’s face scrunches up, like he’s in pain. James hates seeing it, hates knowing he’s the one who put that look there. “I won’t, Flint. People have said and done some terrible shit to me in my lifetime. It would take an awful lot for me to hate you. Just tell me why you left.”

James reaches out a hand slowly, telepathing his intent, giving John every chance to push him away, but he doesn’t. Flint’s fingers graze the curls laying on the pillow next to John’s cheek. “I left because you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, and it terrifies me.”

James’ fingers spear through a curl, pulling it tight before letting it spring back. His finger slips to John’s cheek, slowly sliding down the stubbled skin to the corner of Silver’s mouth. 

His voice is barely above a whisper, scratching its way out of his throat. “I was tossing and turning that entire night. All I wanted was to climb into bed with you. It’s all I thought about from the moment you walked into the office. Some days I couldn’t breath for how much I wanted to touch you.”

Silver’s lips part on a sigh, and Flint traces their plush fullness with the tip of his thumb. “And then, after, I thought you’d hate me. I could have stomached your rage, your disappointment. But the thought that I may have ruined a chance to… to be with you. I couldn’t stay and watch my only chance disappear when you woke up. So, I ran. I’ve been running ever since.”

Silver’s tongue darts out, lightning quick, lapping at Flint’s finger. “Do you ever get tired of running?” He asks.

“I’m fucking exhausted, John,” he tells him, honestly. 

Silver reaches out, grabs ahold of James’ bicep, tugs him down. “Then come to bed,” he demands, soft but urgent. 

And James does. 

________________________________________

“Wait,” Silver says, struggling to sit up and maneuver out of their shared sheets. He scoots to the end of the mattress, grabbing his laptop off the entertainment center. James watches, enraptured as John’s sweaty, smiling face is illuminated in the yellow glow of the screen.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He laughs. 

Silver turns the laptop toward him, and there is a crackling fire roaring to life on the screen. 

“I missed out on the chance for fireside seduction last year. And like I told you in the note I left, this one is asshole proof.”

James smiles wickedly and pulls John toward him. “Well, I wouldn’t say _asshole_ proof.”

__________________________________________

They’re holding hands when they leave the hotel room the following morning, and James is shocked when they round the corner and practically the entire office is standing at the elevator bay. 

Max holds out her hand, and their co-workers pile twenty-dollar bills onto her outstretched palm. She immediately starts counting them. 

“There was a bet going around about us,” Flint gruffly informs Silver. 

John beams at Max, who promptly hands over half the cash to him. He pockets it, then leans into James and kisses him full on the mouth. “Oh, I knew.”

Eleanor is smirking from where she is leaning against the gaudy hallway wallpaper. “I told you _everyone_ was betting on you two.”

“You little shit,” James exclaims, half proud and half fearful of John’s cunning. 

“Don’t be mad,” John’s says, squeezing his hand. “I only ever bet on a sure thing. Trust me, I wasn’t going to give up until you were mine, even if it cost me a damaged leg.”

James tugs John against his chest, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulder. “Buy me dinner with your ill-gotten gains, and we can consider both our transgressions pardoned.”

“Why Flint,” John says with a cheeky grin, “that sounds like the start of a beautiful partnership.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
